


Two Peas

by a_cuddly_dragon



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Drunk!Roy, Drunk!Zuko, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_cuddly_dragon/pseuds/a_cuddly_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short oneshot featuring our favorite black-haired fire users drunk in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Peas

The bartender knew the two black-haired men were trouble. They came in separately, but the older one took the seat next to the other, who kept his hood up, obscuring his face. Neither spoke, but just waved at the bartender whenever they finished their drinks. Although the hooded one had arrived first by almost an hour, he actually seemed less drunk than his more recent neighbor, who was insisting on buying and drinking bottles of Scotch. He had almost finished his second bottle, while the first was still on his third pint of that foreign stuff the bartender had almost forgotten he still had in stock. They both upended their drinks simultaneously, and slammed them back down onto the counter. The bartender winced. Sure, the counter would just fix itself later, but still…

“Hey. Hey, you!” The second man surprisingly only had a bit of a slur evident in his voice. “You in the hood, what’sh your name?”

The only sign he was heard was a slight twitch of the hood, lower across his face.

“Hey, I’m talking to you! Listen to me! I said, what’s your name?” The latecomer became increasingly more belligerent, showing how drunk he really was. “Hey! HEY! Don’t ignore me! I know you can hear me! Speak, dammit!”

Each exclamation got louder and louder, causing the bartender to wince down to the other end of the bar, where two men, one with atrociously pink hair and the other with slightly pointy ears and a long thin red bag slung over his shoulder, were trying to flirt with two women, one with long pink hair grumbling under her breath about somebody named “Kasuda,” or something like that, and the other flirted badly, and alternated laughing with an air just this side of creepy and glancing at the hooded man at the other end of the bar. But the men had been drinking all night, and didn’t notice anything wrong.

A loud shout got the bartender’s attention. “FINE! Don’t talk to me! But let’s see under that hood!” The latecomer at the other end of the bar reached out a hand to grab the edge of the fabric, but it stopped before it could. The bartender could see the hooded man’s hand gripping the latecomer’s, and spoke for the first time that night.

“Don’t. Do. That.” He punctuated these words in his raspy voice by turning and looking straight at the newcomer, who jerked back immediately.

“Oh. Ahh… Sorry about that. I didn’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t have done that. Buy you a drink as apology?”

The hood turned back to face forward, and the bartender quit trying to crane his neck to try to see what had affected the latecomer so badly. “Nah. I have more money than I know what to do with. Here is one of the only places I can freely spend it.” He snorted. “It’s a lot different than traveling as a refugee.” The bartender had abandoned the far end of the bar, and tried to cover up his eavesdropping by polishing a glass with a dishtowel from over his shoulder.

The latecomer waved at the bartender, and the two men slid over the money as the bartender slid over their drinks. “A refugee, huh,” the latecomer said in a much lower tone. “I’ve seen way too many of those in my lifetime. War is hell, and the only ones who survive are demons.”

His companion raised his glass, and drank deeply. “You have that right. Even when you try to keep your sanity, your honor…” He sighed, then shook himself. “But that’s what we’re drinking to forget, right?”

“Yeah. To forgetfulness, then. Yeah?” The latecomer raised his glass for a toast, and the hooded man copied him, then both tossed their heads back. “So, lighter topic. Are you cur… coo… cow… Goddammit, are you seeing anyone?” Evidently frustrated at his drunken speech, he took another drink.

The hooded man snorted again. “Hah. Haven’t had any luck. First my fiancée leaves me because I’m ‘keeping secrets’ from her, or some bull-dog shit like that, but then, this is the best part, the one woman I’ve always admired shows up pregnant at my house because her husband’s off on some stupid spiritual journey! And it’s the first time I’ve heard of them being married, to boot.” He took a longer drink.

“That’s rough, buddy. You’ve got it worse than me. I’ve been trying to make the woman I love jealous by womanizing almost every skirt I see, and not only does she not care, she picks me up when they break up with me and I get drunk at a bar! I even told her once, and she blew me off because I was drunk! Women… Can’t live with ‘em…” He took a drink.

The hooded man started laughing, and the bad flirter at the other end of the bar jerked, and then openly stared at him. “Look at us. What a couple of screw-ups. You know what? Let’s go and tell those women exactly how we feel! Come on, I’ll help you, and you help me. Whaddya say?”

The other man laughed too. “Sure, why not. With us two half-asses, we might just make a whole ass between us!” His laughter reignited his companion’s, and they laughed loudly together.

“Hey, you!” A hand landed on each of the men’s shoulders. “You trying to steal our girls? Well, you picked the wrong guys to mess with! We’re gonna –hic- beat you to a pulp!”

The black-haired men shook off the offending hands, and took another drink. When they were setting the drinks down, the intruders ripped off the man’s hood, revealing a mostly handsome visage… and a giant scar covering a fifth of his face. “Whoa! You’re uglier that that squid demon!” the pointy-eared man exclaimed.

The newly-revealed scarred man whirled, then barely caught himself. “You! Fangboy! You’re mine!”

The pinkette swayed. “Over my –hic- body!”

A fast punch sent him flying. “Happy to oblige you, you salmon-haired freak!” The latecomer stepped clumsily in between the scarred man and his enemy. “Whoops, sorry! I’ll go take care of that moron.” He staggered over to where his victim fell.

“Fangboy” pulled a sword out of the long red bag that he carried. “Looks like it’s just you and me, ugly. No one to save you now!” He unsheathed it, and glowed blue for a moment before going out.

“Oi!” Everyone looked over at the bartender, who jerked a thumb at a sign over the bar. It read, “NO FIRE – MAGICALLY ENFORCED.”

“Damn. Looks like I’ll have to thrash you the old-fashioned way!” Fangboy snarled.

“Ugly” just ducked under with first swing, knocked the sword out of his hand, tripped him, and then pinned him to the floor by his abdomen with the sword with a grace that belied his drunken state… and then promptly fell on his face.

The pinkette rose, and after a few swings, managed to land a hit on the latecomer, knocking him into the bar. The latecomer scrabbled for a barstool, and then smashed it down on his opponent’s head. He tried to sit up, and the late comer pulled out a white glove. After a couple tries, he pulled it on, and clicked his fingers right in the other’s face. The resulting “pop” was small, but enough to knock out the pinkette, and send the latecomer sprawling back across the bar. No one moved for a few moments, and then the door opened.

The bartender frowned. He recognized the white-bearded man as a former patron, but the long-haired young woman didn’t seem like his usual clientele. He got his explanation, however, when they both sighed, “Nephew,” and “Colonel,” simultaneously. They each grabbed one of the black-haired men, and dragged him out the door into the night.

The bartender polished his glass solemnly. He knew the two black-haired men were trouble. Oh well, at least they paid in advance.


End file.
